27. now we are three

After a 'few' drinks after work I got up at 4.30am in a 'slight' alcoholic sweat, with a liquid memory of Paul urging me to have 'just one more' and packed my last items. I didn't want a huge leaving drinks at work or with friends, I wasn't dying after all, and I hope to see them again soon. It was a Thursday, therefore a school night, so not the best time to get people together, which suited me in any event because all I wanted to do was get on that train to Sebastien anyway. I had the best luck as a friend of mine was working on the same Eurostar train and was able to get me upgraded, which meant free hot breakfast, my saviour! I arrived at Lille and had to change to the local station and drag my bags over the bridge to the other station. It was hot, humid and sweaty. You might as well have told me to drag six dead horses with me it felt so endless.

On the train to Poitiers I was dreaming of roast pork for some reason, maybe something to do with the farewell burrito I had at Exmouth Market with my friend Leeloo. It was a small parcel of sheer heaven and the memory of its deliciousness still haunts me now.

I arrived at Poitiers and searched for Seb and there he was. We had one giant hug and I felt at home. We had been too long away from each other and the last few days seemed endless and determined to keep us apart. It was a joy to get in the car and aim for the life we had both been planning for quite a while.

I have been here a week now and I never want to leave. The caravan was far too small for two and so we were determined to move into the house. I cleaned the very basic kitchen area, we moved a large oak table that had been left behind into it and with a microwave, et voila, a kitchen. It has been oppressively hot and without a fridge it has been nigh on impossible to live properly without a cold glass of wine or unwilted salad. But thanks to our new neighbours and publicans we have had the use of a coolbox which has been a boon. Annie and Alistair run the Galopin, the village bar and social hub of the village, and have been incredibly welcoming and looked after Seb while I was in London. It's a great place, where Ringo the Labrador greets you with wag tail and Annie and Alistair with a deliciously cold beer! French and Brits mingle happily. I love this. Language is no barrier, and I'm hoping mine will improve because of this, you only need to be friendly. Sebastien has the double edged sword of being the lucky one to speak both languages fluently, but because of this he has been a conduit between people and helped to explain lunguistic differences, my husband is very clever. In fact, the day I arrived he had reserved a table at Le Galopin and had pre-ordered our dinner, roast pork! That's how clever he is and why I married him, he can even read my pickled mind on a hot train through France.

So we are sleeping on an inflatable bed in a shabby house and I couldn't be happier. I have swapped a flat in London with a view of three tower blocks, with lazy taxi drivers hooting their arrival, boom boom music in open cars and stroppy girls rowing with each other at four in the morning for a view out of the kitchen door of a growing field of sunflowers that will blaze into life in the coming weeks, the tolling of the church bell announcing the hours, the chittering dive bombing swallows and a big blue sky. Why would I want to leave?

Seb and I knew that having a dog in London would have been impossible. Having seen an ad on French internet page I saw some labrador pointer crosses that were being given away. Having discussed breeds and their pros and cons, do we want a jack russell, a boxer or a labrador? A small one or a bigger one, a girl or a boy? There are lots of dogs in the area so we wanted one that would be sociable. We arranged to see the puppies that are left and it turns out that from a litter of 14, poor mum, there were two left. We arrived and saw two gorgeous bouncy little pups. The dad was a huge show labrador and the mother was a liver and white patched pointer and both were very friendly. How to choose? We agreed on the slighter darker and sleeker coated one and put her in the car. She seemed a little worried so I had her on my lap all the way home and we didn't a whine or a whimper out of her. So now we are three and the proud fathers of a little puppy called Mooh, and we are totally soppy about her. Real little house on the prairie stuff.

So last night we sat on the kitchen step, with a glass of wine as the sun went down watching little Mooh sleeping, who needs TV?

26. it's the final countdown.....

Yes, well as the song goes 'It's the final countdown....'. My final week at work. When I'm asked about when it is I'm leaving at work I fill the air with a jubilant air punching 'YESSSSS!!! Not long now!' and they look at me with sideways eyes with as if to say 'awright, calm it down'. A slight exaggeration, but not too far from the truth. I'm very happy to swap a sedentary job with groundhog days for a new life and new challenges, but most of all I can't wait to see my husband. Seb has been out in France for two months now and we have seen each other for one weekend during that time and it's been too long. In fact it has felt more like a mini-bereavement. Of course I will miss my friends, but I know that they will be coming to see us and they will understand why I had to go when they visit. It's simply a life I could never have in Britain. I feel we are more ahead of the game.

My friends put on a wonderful leaving party at Dominic's house at the weekend. It was just perfect. Perfect people, perfect weather, perfect food, just wonderful. Dominic and Paolo made wonderful food and John and Tom brought a box of champagne what more could you ask for. I think it has only just dawned on me that this move will affect my friends a lot more than I thought. There is a lot of love with my friends and that is something we all take for granted from time to time, but when something life changing happens it shakes you up a bit and makes you focus on the important stuff. I cherish that love and know that distance won't diminish it.

So, as I write this, it is four more sleeps until I can be with Seb, who I am sure will cling to me like a happy limpet, and something that makes me smile, even now, as I type. La belle vie, j'arrive!!!

25. a tour of the house

a tour of the house, June 2009

24. head cheese & mind's eye

Yesterday wasn't a good day. The usual lack of information and organisation brought yet another day of chaos and long faces among us in reception. I thought it couldn't get any worse and headed for the restaurant of the hotel for my dinner break. The chef always cooks something juicy and meaty, and his wife often bakes something mouth-watering for dessert. But to crown this shitty day the worst ever since my starting at the hotel, head cheese was waiting for me on the table. I could see something with that was wrong the moment I laid eyes on it. It looked like cat food way past its sell by date. I asked what it was and stopped listening after "pig's head". Fortunately his wife came through for me with clafoutis and chocolate mousse. But I was starving throughout my shift.

On the plus side I started to see the house in my mind's eye. I began to appreciate the space, to visualise it, to see light and colors. It stopped being this demanding, derelict monster and has revealed itself to me. And the same goes for the garden and the playground. I can spend a long time in the house, in the corridors or in the bedrooms, or on the steps that lead to the garden, looking and seeing. It's a lovely feeling. It's still big and overwhelming, don't get me wrong, but it's home, our future, and it looks beautiful.

23 . wildlife update

I think I should give you an update on the wildlife as it has become so centre stage on this blog.

Lazarus unfortunately was put down by the vet, the poor thing was in too sorry a state to be able to recover and survive. I hated being there, in the vet's examination room, and even more being there while he was injecting Lazarus with the lethal dose of pink fluid. I felt awful for the next couple of days after that, remembering how I had found this little hedgehog beautiful, with its plumped padded paws.

As for the swarm of bees that elected residence in the chimney, I spent about a week in complete denial and preferred to ignore the problem, secretly praying for that collapse syndrome or whatever afflicts the beehives the world over. But hell no, no such luck for me. After I found about a dozen, everyday, in the ground floor bedroom and bathroom, and being reduced to a nervous wreck with bees flying around every time I showered (I’ve never been stung you see) I could no longer dodge the issue. And Dave wouldn’t let me either, his last message when we were discussing a plan of attack I tried my best to avoid was “just do it”. I could sense the tone.

So I put my lovely pink Marigold gloves, put the fumigating bomb in the chimney, blocked the hole and ran out. I stood for a while outside and after a few minutes some escaped flying in all directions. Haven’t seen them since.

And we have new squatters. The classrooms, and occasionally the house, are being used by swallows as their own private M25 motorway. I love listening to them singing.

And to finish on the wildlife of our village, I have encountered a new threat to my nervous system: cats. There are two of them that are playing chicken every time I come back from work around one in the morning. It’s like they’re waiting for me, and when they see my car they tell one another: “Look mate, I’m gonna make him shit his pants” before throwing themselves in front of the car. I am now entering the village in first gear in heightened state of paranoia.